The Littlest Matchmaker

by Dorien Kelly

  Could it be that he was a little nervous, too? She liked that idea; it gave her less reason to worry over her every word and gesture.

  “Actually, it’s not such a strange question,” she said. “I have to admit that I’m not much for sweets, but I’m starved for real food by the end of work. And tonight’s special because I don’t have to think about whether what I want is something Jamie would eat. That’s a short list.”

  He smiled. “You only have to consider yourself. How does that feel?”

  Lisa took a moment to inventory her emotions. “Foreign. Even without Jamie here, I find myself craving mac and cheese.”

  “His favorite?”

  She nodded. “Fat grams and carb city. And something I serve only with steamed broccoli to salve my motherly conscience.”

  “Sounds like a fair deal to me.”

  She laughed. “Tell that to Jamie.”

  The waitress arrived with menus, told them about the dinner specials, then asked if they wanted drinks. Lisa ordered a glass of Chardonnay, because she could. Kevin asked for a pint of ale.

  “So do your parents ever watch Jamie?” Kevin asked after they’d both looked at the menu.

  “Sometimes, but I don’t feel right handing him off since he already spends time at Courtney’s, plus three afternoons a week at preschool. And now, after last night’s talk about having me move back home, I’m even less interested in their help.”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks. Kevin took a swallow of ale, and then said, “Maybe if you let them help more, they wouldn’t push so hard to have you move home. Sometimes you need to let people in just a little, you know?”

  While she absorbed what he’d said, Lisa traced a rivulet of moisture coursing down the outside of her wineglass. Maybe he had been speaking in generalities, but she doubted it. His comment had been too much of a bull’s-eye. Though she made a point to be friendly and welcoming to one and all, that welcome extended only so far. She’d discovered that she fared better with her boundaries firmly in place.

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” she eventually replied.

  Kevin looked down at the table, then back at her. “Hey, I’m sorry. You know, I made a mental list of things I wouldn’t bring up tonight, and I’ve already hit number two on that list. Your relationship with your parents is none of my business, and it’s okay to tell me to butt out. It’s just kind of second nature for me to offer advice, even when it’s not needed.”

  “So Courtney tells me…constantly,” Lisa said, softening her words with a smile.

  He grinned. “Figures.”

  The uncomfortable moment seemed to have passed. She took a sip of her wine, then said, “I know she’s an equal opportunity talker. What does she tell you about me? It’s a given that I’m a workaholic, but she must have shared something else with you.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Can’t go there.”

  “Number one on your list?” she asked teasingly, then realized even before he spoke that number one was James, a topic they both had been tiptoeing around for years.

  “Far from it,” he said. “It’s more about me than you, but just the same, it would be crossing into personal territory. Only mine, in this case.”

  She nodded as though she understood what he meant, but really, she didn’t have a clue.

  Kevin gave her a crooked smile, one that barely brought out his dimple.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we take all the pressure off the evening right now?”

  She had a laugh at that one. “You do that and you’re my hero for life.”

  “Would you mind standing up?” he asked.

  Though she couldn’t follow the connection, neither could Lisa see the harm in it. She did as asked. Kevin stood, too, and came around to her side of the table.

  Just then the server arrived to take their order.

  “If you could hang on for a second?” he asked the woman.

  “Sure,” she said, and stepped back a few feet, but lingered. Lisa didn’t doubt that she was curious. Lisa certainly was.

  “We’re going to make a brief detour to the end of the evening,” he said and then extended his hand.

  “How?” she asked, feeling more clueless by the second.

  “Trust me.” He thrust out his hand a little farther, reminding her that it was there. Because she didn’t want to be ungracious, she took it. His grip was warm and firm. She liked the fact that his palm was a little rough with calluses from his work. And she especially liked the way his warmth seemed to be crossing over into her, making her feel bright inside…lit by an exciting sort of vitality she hadn’t felt in ages.

  “I’ve really enjoyed my time with you,” he said as he shook her hand. “But then again, I always do.”

  The noise and laughter and even the curious waitress moved so far into the background of Lisa’s awareness that they might have disappeared. There was only this man.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “I have a confession,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “Even though I told you that it wasn’t, I thought of tonight as a date. And I’ve wanted a date with you for a while now.”

  Her heart fluttered in a very, very good way. “Really?”

  “Truth,” he said with a nod. “You’ll always get the truth from me.”

  Lisa found that more tempting than a promise of yachts and diamonds.

  “Okay,” she said.

  He briefly squeezed tighter on her hand, and the thrill of that warmth again rolled across to her. For all that she noticed their spectators, Malloy’s might as well have been a private island paradise.

  “Is it okay if I kiss you good-night?” he asked.

  She nodded her head in assent.

  Kevin leaned forward and gave her a kiss so brief and yet tender that she wanted more. Much more. But with a broad smile and one word—nice—he let go of her hand.

  “Now that we’ve gotten out of the way that killer question of how the night’s going to end, let’s enjoy the evening, okay?” Kevin asked.

  Lisa nodded absently. When he pulled out her chair, she again sat. But as she ordered her meal, and as they ate, and even through the rest of their evening’s talk—which was admittedly much more fun for having gotten the kiss out of the way—one word haunted her.

  Nice.

  DINNER WAS OVER, AND THEY were closing the distance to Courtney’s house. Lisa, in fact, seemed to be taking on a racewalker’s stride, and Kevin wouldn’t bet against her arriving there one long-legged step ahead of him.

  He knew he’d been taking a gamble by kissing her in the front window of Malloy’s. He wasn’t worried about the gossip. Hell, he invited it. They were both single, consenting adults, and he preferred that the other guys who hovered around her—not that she ever noticed—believe that the two of them had something going. All the same, he wasn’t sure he’d won the gamble. Lisa had relaxed, and he’d managed to keep his foot out of the general vicinity of his mouth for the rest of the night, but it had almost felt as though she hadn’t been paying full attention to him. Before, even if she’d been trying to avoid him, he’d been darned certain that she wasn’t apathetic toward him.

  Courtney’s house loomed just ahead.

  “You really don’t have to walk with me,” Lisa said for the second time since they’d departed the restaurant. He had no shortage of self-esteem, but she was beginning to make him worry.

  “I know I don’t. I just want to.”

  That slowed her a step. He took advantage of the moment and wove his fingers through hers. She glanced down at their laced hands, but didn’t object. If he couldn’t coax words from her, he’d figure out what was going on by physical cues. If she still liked him enough to touch him, he remained in the game. Except that this was too personal and too important to him to think of as a game.

  “Well, thanks again for dinner,” she said when they’d reached Courtney’s broad covered porch.
r />   “You’re welcome,” he replied.

  Neither of them reached to press Courtney’s doorbell and end the evening. They stood there in silence long enough that the night’s first crickets, who had stilled on their arrival, began their song again. Kevin was busy deciding whether he would confuse personal matters more by asking for another kiss when Lisa spoke.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said. “Right now, I want more than nice. It’s been a really long time, and I know I’m not being at all consistent, which stinks for you, but nice is like a Sweet Sixteen party, and—”

  “Hold on,” he said, settling his hands on her shoulders. Her words were tumbling so quickly, one over the other, that it was like climbing his way up a landslide to reach her meaning. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

  “When you kissed me, you said that it was nice.”

  “And this is a bad thing?”

  “Generally, no.”

  “Generally?”

  “I’m not opposed to nice. I mean, it beats the alternative.”

  Her sense of humor and straight-on approach to life had always made him smile. Tonight was no different. “So what’s the issue?”

  “I want more than nice,” she said again.

  She leaned into him, and he could feel his muscles—and another crucial location—respond.

  Ah…

  Now he understood, and on the most visceral of levels. She sent her right hand up to touch his jaw and then let her fingertips settle beside his mouth, one caressing where he knew his dimple would be, if he were interested in smiling. Right now, there were other things he planned to do with his mouth.

  He leaned forward and kissed her once, really more a tease than a kiss.

  “Nice is a compliment,” he said.

  Then he kissed her again, not seeking entry, but allowing his mouth to linger, and damn, but he loved the soft and plump feel of her lips.

  “Nice is a good thing,” he added before briefly kissing her neck.

  She smelled exotic, of warm, perfumed places and hot nights, not at all the cinnamon and vanilla he’d always imagined would be her scent. Desire hit him harder than a hammer blow.

  “I have to…” he said, but the rest of his thought was too involved to voice. He had to kiss her. He had to know if what he was feeling was real or some illusion that had built up so thoroughly over the years of watching over Lisa that it felt real. He had to do this now, here on his little sister’s front porch, of all places.

  Lisa watched him almost warily, but she wasn’t pushing him away.

  “You have to…what?” she asked.

  He settled his mouth over hers with real intent this time. Someone’s heart was pounding. It might well have been his, but he’d drawn her so intimately into his arms that there was little distinction between the two of them. The soft sound she made—almost a sigh—put Kevin’s common sense to bed for the night. He kissed her as he’d wanted to for so long, and it was better and hotter than he’d ever thought to imagine.

  She drew back slightly and murmured one word in a sexy challenge. “Nice?”

  And then she took the lead in this kiss, going up on tiptoe and demanding that he give as good as he was getting. Kevin obliged, not that he could have stopped himself. It was when he found himself with his hand below the fisherman’s net excuse for a sweater she wore, seeking a way to get beneath her dress and touch the sweet curve of her breasts that they both froze.

  He disentangled his hand and took a gentleman’s step back.

  “I, uh…” He had no freaking idea what he was about to say. I, uh, would do it all again in a nanosecond? I, uh, really should have acted on this sooner…like a year ago?

  No matter. Their eyes still locked even if their bodies were now disengaged, Kevin tried to sort through the emotions he saw pass across Lisa’s features as she reached her hand for Courtney’s doorbell and firmly pushed it. The night was finished, and judging by the way Lisa’s eyes had now narrowed, he was, too.

  Chapter Four

  What a restless night’s sleep couldn’t erase, maybe a little hard work would. Though Lisa had been up since five getting a batch of shortbread baking, then readying Jamie for a morning at Miss Courtney’s, she couldn’t quell the nervous energy running through her. It was now nearly ten, and she still occupied herself with busywork in the kitchen, leaving Suzanne alone at the counter. She couldn’t face Kevin today. Not after last night.

  Scones had to be the answer. Toffee scones. Sweet, luscious toffee scones. Lisa pulled open the doors to her dry goods storage and looked for the supplies that would lead her to paradise. She could imagine the soft texture, with bits of warm, oozing toffee chips as a surprise against her tongue.

  She gave a rueful shake of her head as her mouth began to water. Apparently the passion she’d finally put under lockdown last night was spilling over into her baking. Most days it was a safe bet that selection of a scone flavor wouldn’t have her feeling weak at the knees. She needed to pull it together.

  “What do you think of toffee scones?” she called to Suzanne through the open doorway to the retail area.

  “The same thing I think of all scones. To me they’re pretty much the anti-food at this point.”

  “That’s heresy,” Lisa said.

  Suz popped into the kitchen. “How many scones do you think you’ve eaten since opening this place?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know. Not all that many, really. I sample new varieties, but don’t generally snack on them.”

  “I do, which explains the size of your rear versus the size of mine, and I’ve only been here a year. You have willpower,” Suz decreed, then hustled back out at the cheery chime of the shop’s front bell.

  Right. Willpower.

  Lisa pulled out a stainless steel stool from beneath one of her prep counters and sat. Willpower would explain why last night she’d wrapped herself around a guy who she really wasn’t sure she even liked all that much. It would also explain why she’d had to fight herself long and hard to get her hand to the doorbell and end what had been one of the most shockingly hottest kisses of her life. And why, despite knowing it was bad, wrong and stupid, she’d treasure the memory of that kiss for one heck of a long time to come.

  “Idiot,” she muttered to herself, then went to the sink and washed up. If she concentrated, she’d have just enough time to get a batch of scones baked and cooled before she ferried Jamie from Courtney’s to his afternoon of preschool. Whenever possible she tried to do that herself. Those moments with him always made the afternoon fly by.

  The scones were in the oven when Suz called from the front, “Lisa, you’ve got a visitor.”

  Kevin.

  Feeling fluttery and a little freaked-out was unacceptable for all the reasons she’d drilled into her head this morning…but she was. She wished she’d had the foresight—and vanity—to have had installed a mirror somewhere back here. But, no. She’d been too stinkin’ practical for that.

  Lisa looked down at her flour-dusted apron and figured she could at least rid herself of that. She quickly untied it and hung it on a hook. She debated trying for a perky smile, but realized that given her case of nerves, it would come off as manic at best. Then, when she stepped through the doorway, she saw that all of her emotional gyrations had been for naught.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said.

  “Try not to look so thrilled, dear,” her mother replied with a dose of her customary dryness.

  “Sorry…I’m just a little out of synch today.” She came around the counter and gave her mom a quick hug. “What brings you here?”

  “Possibly the fact that you’re my daughter and I wanted to see you?”

  “What, no potential date lurking outside in the shrubbery?” Lisa asked, then took a peek through the front door’s glass because she’d been only half-kidding.

  Her mom laughed. “I’m far smarter than to try that on your turf. Give me credit for good tactics as well as good intentions. I thought you might
have time for coffee and a chat, though?”

  “A couple of minutes, for sure,” Lisa replied. “But I have a batch of scones in the oven I’ll have to pull soon.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  “I’ll assume that includes a cup of fair-trade Ethiopian, then?” Lisa asked, again rounding the counter to grab a mug for her mom and pour her a cup.

  They settled in at a café table, sipped coffee and talked for a few minutes about the civic development group her mom had recently involved herself in, and how excited Lisa was to see two new shops about to open here in the east village. Times had been tough, so each bit of growth was cause for major celebration.

  “And where is the world’s most wonderful grandson right now?” her mom asked.

  “He’s at Courtney’s, but I have to take him over to Hillside after his lunch.”

  “Oh, I can do that! Or better yet, we could let him skip school for the day and I’ll take him shopping!”

  “Mom, Jamie totally loves preschool. He’d much rather be there than out shopping.” She wasn’t even going to go into the utter uncoolness of introducing the concept of “skipping” to a boy who hadn’t yet set foot in a kindergarten classroom.

  “I don’t know, honey. I think he’d have fun. We could make a run to the toy store, and—”

  “No,” Lisa said firmly. “You’ve already bought him every toy out there. He has his own toy room at your house, and it’s bigger than my old bedroom.”

  “But he doesn’t have very much here,” her mom said, wrinkling her nose in an expression that looked a little too close to distaste for Lisa’s already tender ego.

  “Yes, I agree that space is limited when compared to your house, but he has what he loves and what he needs.”

  “It’s home, Lisa. Your home, too.”

  Lisa glanced toward the kitchen, then rose. “Gotta pull the scones.” And maybe cool down a little, herself.

  The three trays of scones were safely on the counter and Lisa’s irritation once again at bay when her mom stepped into the kitchen.

  “What kind are those? They smell heavenly.”